In early November of 2013, the David Rockefeller Center at Harvard University held a two-day conference on Democracy and Memory in Latin America, during which more than 20 invitees presented papers. Ten of those presentations were crafted into the articles that compose this book, which also includes a moving prologue on arpilleras by Marjorie Agosín, an introductory chapter by Merilee Grindle, and a final chapter summing up the conference by Erin Goodman.
The book is divided into three sections. In “Remembering and Democracy: Memory and Its Place in Democratic Institutions,” four contributors recount their experiences and reflect on the importance of preserving memories of the repressive past in the service of a more just future. In “The Challenges of ‘Capturing’ Memory,” academics discuss the complex ways that memories of repression are treated in Mayan oral literature and fictionally by novelists from Argentina and Mexico. Finally, “Citizenship and Democratic Futures” contains three articles (plus Goodman's “Summing Up”) that look at the past and present relationship between memory and democracy in different times and places.
The “democracy” referred to in the conference title is the “pacted” democracy that followed years or decades of authoritarianism, warfare, and repression. Memory refers to the memory of that bleak period of death, disappearance, and deprivation. And the question addressed by contributors concerned the kinds of memory and the objects of memory (memories of what?) that might fortify the democracies in process. The book contains an eclectic group of contributions by former victims, journalists, artists, writers, historians, and others, who differ in their approaches to memory and its relationship to democracy. For some, like Sergio Bitar, memory is intensely personal and the potential for reconciliation postponed to a distant future. Bitar wants respect for human rights to enter the domain of common sense before he reconciles with the persons who violated his own.
Michèle Montas, whose husband, Jean Dominique, was assassinated in Haiti in 2000 and who herself suffered through three exiles, takes solace in small victories, such as the trial of a notorious massacre perpetrator, during which memory is, she claims, gradually reconstructed for future generations. Paolo Vignolo, a Colombian architect, participates in a project centered on “the city of the dead,” Bogotá’s Central Cemetery. Vignolo and his colleagues at the National University of Colombia and elsewhere encourage the voices and memories of multiple social groups that identify with and are inspired by the immense disorder of the Central Cemetery, where esteemed historical figures are entombed next to guerrilla commanders and ex-prostitutes. Vignolo is aware that “to perform memory in the middle of an ongoing conflict may be something akin to acting as sorcerer's apprentice seeking alchemical formulas” with “the risk of biased history of national history that ignore crucial people and episodes.” But he argues that, “in Colombia we have no option. We cannot wait for the end of a never-ending war to develop serious participatory work on memory” (236–237).
In another article, Peter Winn documents how workers’ memories of the deep participatory democracy that many enjoyed during the Allende years informed struggles first against Pinochet and later during the years of the Concertación (1980–2000). While several contributors argue for “full citizenship” as a prerequisite for democratic participation, Winn links political citizenship to what he calls the “deep democracy” of the Allende period and not the “limited democracy” of the Concertación (and pacted democracies in general) (208).
No short review can do justice to the diversity of styles and wealth of ideas presented in this modest collection. This is a stimulating book, though it would have benefited from an index.
